The Meaning of Red
by UnicornSlayer
Summary: This is a story loosely based on Chains of Promathia but mostly just from my imagination and inspired by Vana'diel.
1. Prelude

Prelude

**Prelude**

The night was dark, moonless, carrying a faint tint of red. A tinge of smoke stung his nostrils as Tassadar ran toward the base of Mt. Altair as quickly as his legs allowed. On any normal occasion he wouldn't dare go near, for he knew the stories of what lie in the cave above. It was said to be the resting place of great evil, shrouded in legend and prophecy. This night was different.

Gazing out his window he had seen a tremendous flash of light, followed by the faint but shrill sound of an agonizing scream. As he strode nearer to the ominous entrance of the cave, the hairs on the back of his neck rose as he heard a faint but deep growl penetrate the eerie silence of the surrounding wood. In the dark he could make out the silhouettes of two figures lying motionless at the feet of this seemingly average being.

Remembering the stories and prophecies, piece by piece he grasped the concept that the world's last hope had died with these two people, and that he himself was in the presence of a most terrible evil. A Paladin and Healer Mage had sacrificed themselves in a last valiant effort to thwart the coming of the Age of Destruction. They must have calculated this moment and come to slay the evil when it would be most vulnerable, its birth. But one Paladin accompanied by a Healer Mage had proved futile against such a being. They had died at the awesome might of a dragon. Yet this was no ordinary dragon, for he was the son of Bahamut; the great dragon king.

Tassadar could feel the netherworld rejoice as he watched the being hunch over and stretch out, great wings sprouting from its back, its body contorting and changing into its true form. Tassadar shuddered as evil wafted from the beast, saturating him until he couldn't breath.

The beast shimmered and returned to a mostly human form. It had only been a short glimpse of its true nature. His breath returning, Tassadar could only watch as he saw the Prince of Death turn and head towards their small village, as if it were merely a man.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Sangriah wandered the neatly stoned streets of Jeuno, still shaken by the scene she had witnessed. She was positive such things had not been meant for her eyes, but being a General of San d'Oria, and more importantly, a soldier against the Beastmen of Vana'diel, she had answered the call to fight. Dampness still clinging to her hands, she was disturbed by what she had seen. She shook her head, trying to clear it of her fear and doubt. It had been no comfort to her that the great warriors of Jeuno seemed to be just as frightened as she, if not more.

Absently, she wiped her hands futilely on her leg. Her feet had taken her to the Infirmary. If anything, she could help to heal anyone who had been hurt by the whole ordeal. Perhaps she may even find out more about the mysterious boy who had been found unconscious.

Wolfgang had sworn her to secrecy. He seemed most irritated that she had been there, but it had been necessary. Her fighting skills, combined with her healing expertise had been needed at the front line. When the mighty…Sangriah shook her head again. She still couldn't believe what she had seen! She stopped in front of the Infirmary and looked at the blood staining her right boot, felt the sweat and the exhaust of battle still upon her. It _had_ been real! A great dragon, a dragon that would put all other dragons to shame, had risen!

The ground had shook and finally exploded from the release of the immense creature leaving behind a catastrophic fissure, and she had been there to see it. She had watched as the greatest that Vana'diel had to offer panicked, breaking their lines, others frozen with absolute terror. As the enormous beast had flown overhead she could feel the blood drain from her body. Grown, battle experienced men fled around her, but she stood her ground and at that moment knew why she had become a soldier.

She could faintly hear the commanding shouts of Wolfgang over her heart pounding in her ears, "Stand your ground!"

Suddenly, her training and experience had reclaimed her. Gathering herself, she had pushed to the front, stopping only for a moment to summon the element of thunder into her sword. As she had prepared to unleash a series of healing spells on the badly wounded soldiers, a blinding light interrupted her. It was a light so bright and hot, it felt as though it had gone straight through her, and in that instant, she had feared that it was the end. With teeth clenched she had pried her eyes open wanting to face her death fully aware. Slowly the light had dissipated and in its place of origin lay a boy with skin as fair and pure as the light that had born him.

Willing herself to calm, Sangriah stepped through the front doors of the Infirmary. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary; no mass of battle-ridden men, yearning for comfort after a hard fought battle. The place was eerily empty, as if nothing had happened.

Wolfgang's words returned to her, "You will tell no one of what has happened here or what you have seen." It wasn't a request, or even an order. It had been a threat and now it was apparent that no one else would be telling anything about what they had seen either. Where were the wounded?

Sangriah walked up to the front desk and was met by a smile of a young hume girl, obviously in training and a Healer Mage enthusiast.

"My, you look as if you've seen a ghost! Do you need help with mending?" She quickly got up and peeked into the next room. "Doctor, we have a patient!"

Sangriah smiled wearily at the girl. She was quite capable of tending to herself, but had gotten into the habit of letting her wounds fester. She liked being reminded of her mortality. She didn't want her healing gift to give her a false sense of invulnerability.

"He'll be right out," the girl flashed Sangriah a white smile, "We've only gotten a single call all day!" she whined.

A tall Elvaan male strode out of the room, assessing Sangriah quickly with his eyes.

"You should be grateful, Cherisa, that the people are well and not wishing for our assistance." He placed a hand to Sangriah's back and guided her into the privacy of the room he had come from.

The Doctor shut the door behind him and waited there a moment while Sangriah settled herself in a chair. He walked over to the sink and wet a white, sterile cloth. Staring into her eyes, he handed her the cloth. "You look as if you have seen battle, young one."

Sangriah met the Doctor's stare equally and bristled slightly. She was use to being criticized over her youth and her rank. "I am a General of San d'Oria. I have seen many battles," she answered simply.

The Doctor gave her a knowing grin, "And in a way, so have I, tending to those who have fallen, and raising those that it is not too late for."

Sangriah nodded, and used the wet cloth to wipe her battle stained face. When she was finished the Doctor took it from her and placed it in the sink.

"What brings you here? I can see that you are not in need of a healer, though you are in need of healing." He pointed to the sword that hung freely from her waist. Scorch marks from the thunder she had summoned still stained it becoming the evidence he needed to discern her talent for the Ether. She hadn't had time to polish them away yet.

"I came here to offer my assistance…" she had counted on there being need of it, "but I can see that you have things well under control." She looked around the sterile environment and wondered again where the fallen soldiers were. How many could have been saved with a raise spell?

The Doctor strode across the room to another set of double doors and looked at her from over his shoulder. "I assume that you were with Wolfgang earlier."

Sangriah's eyes widened. She would not lie, but was bound to her agreement to Wolfgang to say nothing of what had happened. "I was fighting the Beastmen," she said flatly.

The Doctor nodded. "Well, it just so happens that I am in need of some assistance. I am confident that you will be as stumped as I, but seeing as you are the only healer that may know what happened, your input would be greatly appreciated." He turned the handle of the door to the next room.

Sangriah remained in her chair. She wasn't sure what this Doctor knew, but she wasn't going to volunteer anything. The honor of her word would not permit it.

"Please," he invited her into the next room, "just as one healer to another, examine this boy."

Sangriah sighed and got up from the chair. There was no harm in giving her opinion on a patient. She doubted that she'd be able to provide any input that a master such as himself had not already concluded.

She walked into the dimly lit room and had to fight to show no reaction. It was the boy that had come from the light! Her eyes darted to the Doctor who was watching her intently.

"His pulse is very weak, but steady. He shows no reaction to light or stimulus of any kind. He has the features of an albino," the Doctor explained, "the nonpigmented skin, the pure white hair, but his eyes are black, not red. A man who was once a close friend of mine brought him to me today. I believe you know of him, his name is Wolfgang."

Sangriah walked toward the bed that was placed in the center of the room. A soft light hung above him. His skin seemed translucent even under the faintness. She dared not touch him.

"I am not a trained Healer Mage, but rather, I am one of the Red; skilled both in offensive and healing magic," Sangriah confessed, "I am not as knowledgeable in the arts of healing as someone as dedicated as you." She looked at the boy and knew what could be known by anyone, healer or not: this boy was unnatural.

The Doctor nodded and paced on the other side of the bed. "But perhaps…in your experience on the battle field…" his eyes slid to hers.

Sangriah realized he was trying to get her to tell him, without breaking her word to Wolfgang.

"That you may have seen your comrades," he continued, "show similar symptoms…during the stress of battle…and maybe you could tell me how they acquired such symptoms." He stopped his pacing and stood straight, folding his hands behind his back, waiting for a response.

Sangriah understood what he was asking. He wanted to know where this boy had come from and under what circumstances. Apparently Wolfgang had entrusted the boy to his care, but had not trusted the Doctor with anything else. Sangriah didn't like games or subterfuge. She preferred to be straightforward to the point of bluntness.

"I have never seen anything like this, sir," Sangriah stuck to the truth. She opened her mouth to say more, but left it at that. She could see the Doctor's face grow red with frustration. She was sure that he was about ready to interrogate her when Cherisa poked her head in.

"Oh, I'm so sorry for interrupting," she said quickly, "but there are soldiers out here demanding entrance. I told them they had no business here, since they were all perfectly healthy, but they are quite adamant!" Cherisa's face was flushed.

The Doctor let out an angry sigh and strode out of the room, Cherisa following quickly behind.

Left alone with the boy, Sangriah could feel her skin prickle. It was eerily silent, his breath too shallow to make any noise over her suddenly uneven one. She bent down to stare closer at the boy's face, just to see…what, she didn't know. Inches from him she could see not a blemish, not a freckle, not a scar adorning his perfect skin. No sweat on his brow from infection or harm. He lay there as if he was dead, except for the slight rise and fall of his chest that gave away his breath.

Bent down looking over his body, he was dressed simply in a hospital shroud, his feet exposed. Even they were a pure white, with no discoloration. It was as if he had been carved from pure white marble. She turned her head back to his face and stumbled back when she saw his eyes open. Black! The entirety of his eyes were black! She caught herself against the wall.

The boy sat himself steadily up, no exertion shown, and lowered his feet to the ground. He lifted himself to a standing position and there he remained staring at her.

Sangriah was frozen with shock and fear. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she recognized that she was more afraid in this moment than she had been on the battlefield. His beauty stole the breath from her body and she knew that she was in the presence of something divine. He held out his hand palm up, and a large blue gem formed there. He willed her to take it.

Sangriah reached out, every nerve in her body overly aware, her senses overloaded. As her hand neared the amulet, she could feel a tingling start, first at her fingertips, then throughout to her palm. Her hand clenched over the stone and lightning shot through her from it, the hairs on her scalp rising, her toes curling as she endured it.

When her eyes opened, the boy had moved to the door left open. He glanced at her once over his shoulder and walked through.

Examining the amulet he had given her, she felt heat emanating from it, a throbbing against her frozen hand. It was round and smooth, reflecting no light, but shone with a light all its own. She heard shouts from outside the Infirmary and quickly stashed the amulet in her pocket as she headed out.

"You did not inform me that the boy had regained consciousness!" Wolfgang shouted angrily from in front of five of his elite soldiers.

The boy stood in front of the entrance to the Infirmary, beside the doctor, glaring maliciously at Wolfgang. The Doctor stood staring at the boy, speechless.

"I demand that you hand him over at once!" Wolfgang's face was contorted in anger. He had not yet rested from the previous battle, and by the look in his eyes, had not rested for days prior.

The boy's glare slid over the soldiers standing ready in their pristine Jeunonian armor. His face betrayed nothing, except for the slight smirk in the left corner of his mouth. He leaped off the doorstep straight at the soldiers. They stood ready to grab him, but their hands went straight through him. Faster than they could turn around, he was already down the street and lost in the crowd of clueless Jeunonites.

"After him!" Wolfgang commanded, his soldiers obeying. Before he followed himself, he gave Sangriah a stern look.

Sangriah stood where the mysterious boy had, examining the Doctor and absentmindedly clutching the amulet in her pocket.

"I hope he gets away," the Doctor said looking down the street as the soldiers frantically searched.

Sangriah only nodded. She had to get home, to San d'Oria. She would enter the Cathedral and seek guidance from the Goddess of the Dawn. If Altana herself would not help her, perhaps one of her priests may offer some guidance.

Without saying goodbye, she stepped off the doorstep of the Infirmary and headed toward the stables. Recently, she had finally learned to ride the strangely oversized Lizards that were so popular for their speedy travel. Dracobos were known to be the fastest way of land travel. She hoped to be able to utilize their swiftness in battle as well. It would finally give them the upper hand they needed in the ongoing struggle against the Beastmen, but there was something about the oversized animals that she didn't trust. Perhaps it was the lack of intelligence, apparent in the beasts. They were not much more than scaly homing pigeons. She doubted that they could be battle trained anyways, she was sure that she wasn't the first to think of it.

As she entered the musty stables, a courier stopped her. He seemed frantic and out of breath. "Are you," he stopped to grab his side, cramped from running, "The General Sangriah?" He heaved a few more breaths before he stood upright.

Sangriah nodded, still not able to find her voice after her encounter with the boy.

"Cloudd, Captain of the Seventh League of Bastok has entrusted me with a message for you."

Sangriah stared at him impatiently. It was obvious he had a message for her, he was after all a courier…what else would he possibly have!?

"He says the honor of your assistance would be greatly valued at the line in Valkurm. Kentala is under attack."

Sangriah sighed heavily. It seemed that her assistance was demanded frequently as of late. She couldn't understand how the Beastmen had grown in numbers so suddenly or how they were pushing their borders back into the lands of people. Kentala of all places! The beastmen were growing confident.

Nodding to the courier she pressed a 50 gil into his palm. The courier bowed in thanks and ran off.

She was recognized by the stable master, who had taught her himself how to ride his unique animals. "Ready to put that new license to some use? Once you get out there with the wind on your face, you'll never give it up." He smiled at Sangriah, his love for his animals genuine.

"We shall see," Sangriah took the reins from him and mounted the lizard, hooking her right leg over the saddle, so that she could ride sidesaddle. It had amused the stable master that she had insisted on learning both standard and sidesaddle, but although her mother had long abandoned her, she still had a desire to please the woman. A Warrior's path was not one that was chosen by a lady, and Sangriah's mother would not have approved. Nonetheless, Sangriah tried to do little things to honor the Lady Avaela's memory.

As Sangriah guided the Dracobo onto the openness of Batallia Downs, she remembered the harshness of her mother. Lady Avaela had always been critical.

"Look at your sister, Sangriah. She is so graceful, without trying," Sangriah remembered the harsh words. They would watch Eyelet, so beautiful with her red hair, like their mothers, tall and lean already at such a young age. Sangriah had had an awkward adolescence, her gracefulness not arriving until she had disciplined herself with a sword. She was drawn to the blade and would sneak off to watch the boys practice while her mother thought that she was at her Healer Mage studies. Sometimes she would run away with Kiaros and he would teach her what he had learned during sword training. It worked for a while, until her mother began to suspect.

"Kiaros," Sangriah whispered his name into the wind. She had settled into the rhythm of the saddle and had to admit that she was starting to enjoy herself. Kiaros would be back from his assigned quest soon. No doubt, he would find her as soon as he was finished. He had vowed to protect her with his life. She had taken no such vow herself, but they both knew it existed. He had been there for her from the beginning, and slowly as they had grown, so had a love that was as sweet and natural as the rising sun.

Sangriah blushed in her saddle; she had the feeling that he was going to ask her to marry him soon. She had been hoping that he would, for she was saving herself for him and their wedding night, but he was ever so proper and would ask for Eyelet's permission first and it had been a rare occasion that they were all in the same place at the same time these days.

How ironic, that after Eyelet and her had been abandoned, it was Sangriah who was more the lady, and Eyelet, who had fallen from grace! Eyelet had no qualms about taking lovers, or using men to get what she wanted. She used her graceful lady's hands to pick their pockets and steal from right under their noses while she batted her big blue eyes and they became jelly in her hands. Sangriah spent many a night worrying over her sister's safety, and fending off her jilted lovers. Though they were very different, Sangriah and her sister had become close as they carved out a living on their own. Sangriah did not judge her sister, and Eyelet did not question Sangriah's deeply ingrained sense of honor. They gathered strength from their loyalty to each other. There was no chance of abandonment between the two; they were sisters. Perhaps she would seek her sister's counsel, if none could be found at the Cathedral.

Her thoughts focused as the terrain made the transition to dessert. She would have to have her wits about her with Beastmen lurking about. She had nurtured a friendship with Cloudd for one simple reason. He was Bastokan. She was always eager to make friends with Bastokans, for although her own nation was allied with Bastok against the Beastmen, beneath it all, they were still competing over the unclaimed lands. Having friends among Bastok meant she was one of the most well informed San d'Orians on Bastokan affairs. She was not a spy, but merely used the temporary alliance to her advantage. She did not goad information from her Bastokans, but let them brag to her their victories and their gossip. All in all, Cloudd wasn't that bad of a guy, for a Hume.

Immediately, her eyes sharpened as she recognized the first signs of battle upon the horizon. Storm clouds swirled as Mages called upon the elements to strike down their foes, and there was a trembling in the ground that could only have been created by the movement of thousands of Beastmen.

Sangriah hardened her heart as she rode past the first few bodies. Many were the hulking corpses of beastmen, who gained advantage by sheer number, but she recognized those of her allies as well. There were three nations allied against the Beastmen and in those three nations were five races. Here on the battlefield where they had fallen, it did not matter where they had originated, their resting place had been the same. Humes lay beside Elvaans, Mithra next to Galkans…and then there were the Taru's. Sangriah slowed her dracobo down as she caught a glimpse of a mangled Taru body. They were like eternal children, small in stature and plump with water fat. It was always hardest to look upon the lifeless body of Taru. Regret nipped at the edge of her consciousness. If she had only dedicated herself to the arts of healing, then she could raise these people…

With renewed determination, she kicked the giant reptile into a hurried pace, switching to standard so that she could go faster. She had lingered too long in her thoughts on the way there. People were dying! She could rest and daydream all she wanted when she was dead herself.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Pushing herself to the point of exhaustion, Sangriah rode through the blazing hot desert. She was sure that the stable master would not have approved of her treatment of his animal, but she excused herself with the fact that the dracobo would run back to the stables and rest when she had gotten to her destination. Its work would be done, while hers would just be beginning.

Absently, she reached in her pocket, a tingling in her fingers assured her that the amulet was still there. Somehow, she felt that she was drawing strength from it, or perhaps it was giving her strength as she came closer…Sangriah pulled the giant lizard to a complete halt as she came to the crest of a sand dune. Ahead of her she could see the sturdy walls of Kentala, surrounding the walls, thousands of beastmen.

Sangriah dismounted her dracobo and sent it on its way, assured that it would find its home safely as it was trained. Reaching into her knapsack, she pulled out a Warp Scroll, marked Kentala. She looked at the seal upon it, the mark of Whisperingshade. He had handed her this scroll before she had left for Jeuno as if he'd already known she would need it. She had been nervous to accept it; warping was not a preferred means of travel. Some offered, flat out refused this mode of transportation. Sangriah knew that Whisperingshade hadn't offered this rare scroll lightly. Nothing offered by a Black Mage of his caliber was ever given lightly. His services as a master of the Black arts had served her well, and she made a mental note to make sure and thank him when next they encountered.

Breaking the seal, she unraveled the scroll and watched as the words Whisperingshade had etched there burned red with the power he had placed as Sangriah read them aloud. She felt a sudden cold envelope her as it always did when she warped. Fear gripped her for an instant as she felt her body travel through a place where light had been long forgotten, where the warmth was stolen straight from her veins until she felt the pain of ice pumping through her. She took a deep, painful breath, and caught herself against a large crystal staff, mounted securely in a deserted room deep within the ancient walls of Kentala. Whisperingshade's mark could clearly be seen over the threshold.

Silently she thanked Whisper for his expertise and she thanked the staff he had placed to call her body and soul out of the nether region and back into this world. She shivered at the thought of being lost in that place. It was a black void, filled with cold and emptiness. No place for a child of Altana.

Taking another, steadier breath, Sangriah straightened herself and walked proudly out of the room. She could not allow her fear, or her fatigue to show. She took the stairs two at a time, taking advantage of her long Elvaan legs. Soldiers hurried around her, gathering supplies and transporting them to where they were needed. Atop the Outpost wall, stood a line of Rangers and Mages, desperately trying to keep the beastmen at bay while avoiding their comrades who had been forced to take up arms and fight face to face with the ones who had broken through.

Among the archers atop the outpost wall, Sangriah spotted Cloudd. His face was stern, and his eyes darted about, keeping close watch on the progress of the battle.

"Archers, to the east!" In unison the archers turned to the east and loosed their arrows on yet another hoard of beastmen that had broken through. The arrows descended like sinister raindrops from the clear desert sky. Cloudd's voice was hoarse from yelling over all the explosions around him. He didn't flinch when Sangriah noticed the glimmer of the Shell and Protect spells deflect the large boulders that had been magically hurled at him. She recognized the fatigue in his dark eyes that usually sparkled with mischief. His warrior's helmet, usually shining with fresh polish was now tarnished, and she was surprised to see recent battle wear on the chest plate of his chain mail. Cloudd himself had seen battle this day…the enemy had gotten that close.

Cloudd's eyes darted up to Sangriah and went quickly back to the battlefield. "Push forward!" he yelled as he recognized the opportunity. Sangriah was tall, even among the Elvaans. There weren't many Hume males that were comfortable with her height over them, but Cloudd never seemed to mind.

"Do you see those men!?" Cloudd motioned to the center of the battle, addressing Sangriah and taking no time for formalities.

Sangriah quickly looked towards where he was pointing. There were five of them, carving their way through the mass of Beastmen, using the element of surprise against the dumb brutish beasts. Their mission was obviously one of advancement as they ran past easy targets and deflected attacks.

"Yes!" Sangriah shouted over the loud claps of thunder. A group of Battle Mages to her right kneeled down to rest after the impressive display of energy.

"They're going after the War Chief!" Cloudd continued. "If we can take him down, the others will lose direction!" Cloudd turned and caught an arrow in the shoulder. His Healer Mage instantly rose and tended to his wounds as Cloudd continued to examine the lines without hesitation. "Their healer has fallen, and I have no one here that has a chance of catching up with them, and that has your healing ability," Cloudd continued his explanation.

Sangriah nodded that she understood. Turning to leave, Cloudd caught her by the shoulder taking a moment to bore the importance of this into her with his eyes. "This is our only chance. We are greatly outnumbered. If we cannot take out the War Chief…"

"I'll make it," was all Sangriah said. She ran back down the stairs and around to the west gate. There was no room for doubt. She wouldn't allow herself not to believe that she would make it, the consequences of losing Kentala were too great. She stopped at the gatekeeper and prepared herself for the most important run of her life. There wasn't time to fight her way through, she'd have to run straight through to catch up to the men that had been pointed out, the path was far from clear. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on her lessons from Whisper. She felt the spikes of fire tingle as they erected themselves around her. They would deter the beastmen from attacking her, and harm them if they did. Next, she summoned a Shadow. She felt the same coldness sweep over her that she had while warping, but she ignored it. The shadow would absorb some attacks before she would have to release her hold on it. The rest of her energy she would save for when she got to her destination. They would be in need of healing. She gave instructions to the gatekeeper and waited for the signal from Cloudd.

"Light up the West Gate!" Cloudd ordered. Battle mages stood up from all over atop the outpost wall and turned to the West Gate. Explosions and sizzling could be heard behind the gate as beastmen squealed in agony. The gatekeeper shielded his eyes against the brightness and the heat that had been unleashed and covered his nose at the putrid stench of charred beastmen flesh and fur.

Sangriah stood ready at the gate, her shield in her left hand, sword ready at her right. She felt a fresh sheen of perspiration on her brow as adrenaline made her battle ready. The gatekeeper released the gate and Sangriah ran through, her eyes focused solely on her destination.

The immediate surroundings of the gate were clear, except the burning remains of the Beastmen. Climbing over the charred remains, she wouldn't allow herself to think about the peril she was throwing herself into. Already, she heard the clatter of sword against sword, the agonizing screams as axes chopped through flesh, and inside herself she heard a little whimper of fear that she quickly squashed.

Charging past the first few beastmen, she was impossible to miss, being at least a head taller than most of the other soldiers, her silver hair gleaming in the hot desert sun. The Beastmen stopped in mid melee to turn and attack her as she ran by. Some attacks she was able to block with her shield, others parry with her sword…she felt the hold on her shadow slip through her grasp and the first stinging slash as rusted sword met the flesh of her sword arm. Spikes of fire erupted around her at the contact and the Beastman roared in surprise as well as pain. Sangriah had never been known for stealth or agility. It had been noticed from the very beginning of her military career that she was an especially appetizing target to Beastmen. Why, had yet to be discerned, but she had learned to use it in battle to her advantage. In this instance though, it was far from an advantage. It seemed that one of the Beastmen leaders had taken notice of her as well and had given an order to take her down. Aware of the focus on her, she continued her sprint, wincing when she was not able to deflect an attack completely and new wounds were made.

Upon seeing her, a Beastman threw his axe down and decided to come at her full force with the sheer bulk of his weight. Being hit by what felt like a boulder, Sangriah felt the breath stolen from her as her vision went black. She felt the hot sting of the desert sand against her face and could smell the scorching sizzle of Beastman flesh as it continued to squeeze the life from her while it burned against her spikes. Forcing herself to open her eyes, she writhed in a futile attempt to get out of the grasp of the monster, but its weight was too great. She growled with renewed anger, refusing to give up, sand grinding its way into her open wounds. Her sword had plunged its way deep into the creature, but that was not enough to stop it. She could feel herself begin to go dizzy as the enormous beast bit into her armor-clad shoulder. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, pain being the only thing keeping her conscious. She thought of Kiaros as she resigned herself to her fate. Why had she waited? They were warriors…their days numbered. Every day could be their last, and this is what made their love so beautiful. Why had she been so proper?

She felt herself being propped up onto her feet.

"Can you continue?" Dark eyes stared up at her from beneath the heavy hood of a grey cloak and she recognized one of the members from the party Cloudd had pointed out. He reached down and pulled his sword from the corpse of the Beastman like nothing had happened. Grabbing her arm, he pulled her with him as he continued to close in on the War Chief.

Sangriah stumbled at first, her feet sinking into the unforgiving sand, but regained her balance. She had been at the brink of death and still her mission was not complete. She let the Hume pull her along, noticing that none of his comrades had made it with him.

The War Chief stood upon the dune, meeting the two with a steady gaze, and an uncharacteristic intelligence behind its eyes. He recognized the challenge and signaled his guard to stand down. He would not dishonor himself by refusing the challenge. He was the War Chief! He could take on the two measly creatures presented to him.

Sangriah watched as the War Chief lifted his Great Axe with ease using only one of his overly long, heavily muscled arms. He raised it high into the air and let out a bellowing battle cry, his guard answering in unison with their own roars, cheering him on.

Sangriah forced herself to be calm, and let the magic flow through her, fill her to brimming until she felt she shimmered from it. This was exactly why she was of the Red Mages, not many could maintain their focus while amongst the battle, so they would have to stand behind. Red Mages were neither masterfully skilled in healing or offensive magic but stood side by side along their warrior comrades, amidst the fight. They were not experts, unable to devote all their time to a single skill, their casting abilities limited by the stress of their surroundings, but the worth of their mobility and wide range of abilities was immeasurable.

A full party had been sent to intercept the War Chief, she would use everything she had trying to defeat the War Chief with only this Hume. Taking her eyes off of it for only a moment, she risked a glance at the Hume to assess his condition. He was badly hurt, but battle ready, his wounds having no effect on his stance. He unclasped his cloak at the neck and let it drop freely to the sand behind him, accepting the War Chief's challenge unadorned. Sangriah opened herself to the light of Altana and guided Her power to the Hume, healing him slightly, watching as some of his minor wounds vanished. She did the same for herself, and welcomed the refreshing coolness.

There was a deep rumbling in the sand as they all stood their ground against what seemed to be a mild earthquake. It threatened her concentration, but she held on to the magic firmly. She jolted, recognizing the feeling but too distracted by the situation at hand to make the connection.

Only seconds had passed but it felt as if it had been an eternity. She began to circle the War Chief on the left, the Hume going to the right. The Chief swung his axe impressively in a wide circle above his head and roared as he lunged for the Hume, saliva dropping freely from its mouth.

The Hume deflected with his sword but was noticeably thrown back by the blow. It didn't seem to deter him though. He lowered his head in determination and met the War Chief straight on, putting his faith and his life in the hands of the mage he had rescued. He gave it his all, expecting no less from himself. Sangriah wanted to help, but knew if they were to win this fight, she would have to stick to her training. She stood in deceiving calmness, gathering the magic, and getting ready to release the true asset of being a mage of the Red. She gathered as long as she dared, the Hume putting up an impressive fight but obviously outmatched by sheer strength. He was already battle fatigued just from getting there. She felt something in her snap as she gathered more than she had ever done before. The magic poured off her, almost casting itself, using her as a conduit. Enfeebling spells came one after another with no hesitation between. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind she knew she should not be able to do this, that each spell must be weaved carefully so a mistake not be made, but she let the magic flow freely, slowing the War Chief down, poisoning it, weighing it down and finally all but paralyzing it. She touched it with Altana's power draining it slowly with her light, Beastmen were of the darkness. As she felt the magic within her dwindle, she healed the Hume one last time and thrusted her sword in the air, her short hair lashing wildly about her from the rush of magic. Thunder boomed from over head and a streak of lightning impacted her sword with such force it threw her down.

The War Chief became angrier as its fight became more difficult with the aid of that filthy, deceiving witch's magic. It was at an obvious disadvantage. He had foolishly assumed that both had been mere fighters, and that these weak creatures preferred to keep their mages behind the battle not in it. The War Chief saw one of his Shamans step forward and was further enraged that the Shaman would dare to interfere. The Shaman began to cast the symbols on the hot desert sand for a cure directed on the War Chief. A member of the guard quickly stamped the symbols out of the sand, and the mage was rebuked with a stiff backhand. Pride swelled in the War Chief. His son would not allow him to be dishonored.

The Hume noticed the change in the Chief immediately as it was unable to deflect his blows as easily. The War Chief became sluggish, flailing wildly when it seemed to break through the haze, but missing in its rage. The Hume's ears rang from the boom of thunder just overhead. He had a hint of concern for the Elvaan that had miraculously stood there amongst it all and cast her spells one after another. The lightning had struck and she had fallen. She had done her job, he would be able to take out the War Chief easily enough with her contribution, although he was sorry to see another worthy comrade die. He slashed up with his sword and grazed the War Chief in the gut, causing him to stumble with its parry. The Hume took the time to toy with him, to show the other Beastmen his dominance over their War Chief. He prodded the War Chief with his sword, over vital areas instead of giving the mortal blow. He enjoyed this moment, where his victory was eminent. A slow smile eased across his face.

Then once more the War Chief raised his axe arm in anger, and all at once the hazy look in his eyes disappeared. A loud cry that raised the hairs on the arm of the Hume came from its mouth. The spells had worn off...No more games. The War Chief advanced at him, delivering blow after blow, its rage aiding him now instead of hindering him.

Bracing himself for the hard sweep of its arms, the Hume clenched his teeth and heard a mild clap of thunder as the War Chief's eyes bulged and saw the Elvaan female withdraw her sword from its axe arm. The Elvaan female had not been struck by lightning, she had summoned it!

Turning in rage, the War Chief now recognized the new threat. He dropped his axe in the sand, raising his massive arms in the air in a motion to grab the Elvaan and crush her with his bare hands, to feel the life drain from her in his grip.

She had mastered Enthunder, the Hume appreciated. He noted her youthful appearance even for that of an Elvaan as he approached the War Chief from behind. He took his time, memorizing the moment, counting it among his victories, deciding where he would deliver the killing blow. He noticed the vulnerable area under the arm of the War Chief's sparse armor and made his decision. While its arms were raised, ready to grab the Elvaan, he stepped in and thrust his sword neatly in that vulnerable spot driving his sword in with incredible strength, and twisting as he ran through the War Chief's heart.

A moment passed, the Hume and the Elvaan staring at each other from either side, with his sword buried deep within, the War Chief frozen in its immediate death. They stared afraid to move, knowing of the impending chaos that would soon follow.

Sangriah looked down taking a deep breath, her sword arm wavering with her fatigue. How long would she be able to avert death with it as close as she seemed to keep it? They would have to fight their way back, among the chaos of the leaderless Beastmen. The ground shook again, shifting Sangriah's feet into the sand. She looked back at the Hume. It was as if the desert was already trying to bury her.

Seeing that she had accepted their probable fate, he nodded slowly at her, twisting his sword and withdrawing it from the massive War Chief, its body collapsing into the sand. He turned to face the guard, knowing they would be upon them soon.

Sangriah was tired; the magic had stolen her strength. Weakly she brought her sword into ready position, sweeping her eyes over the entourage of Beastmen before her taking a defensive position beside the Hume. Again she thought of Kiaros. She promised herself she would speak with him if she managed to survive this. She promised herself she would more than just speak with him. They lived in dangerous times...too dangerous for her to wait any longer. A Beastman snarled, pulling her from her scattered thoughts. She bared her teeth and growled back, some of her strength returning. She wasn't done here yet.

The Hume felt the smirk twitch the corner of his mouth at her pathetic little growl. It was an odd thing to be amused by in light of their situation. The guard stood, restless but obviously unsure of what to do. Word spread amongst Beastman of the War Chief's death and could be measured by the amount of chaos, Beastmen leaders no longer able to direct their fighters, no longer sure how to direct them. Beastmen followed a very strict chain of command. It had been the War Chief's will that had brought them there, his mind that had effortlessly stormed the walls of Kentala, his strength that had inspired the Fighters to win.

A Beastman of the Guard stepped forward, snarling impressively around, daring any of the others to step forward. When he was satisfied he turned to the Hume and the Elvaan, snarling openly at them. Avenging his father would lay his claim to be the new War Chief. Ready to begin, another Beastman stirred and stepped forward, the one that had been backhanded. It shook its staff maliciously at the other Beastman, beads and shells clanking noisily against the staff, an obvious challenge.

Sangriah's eyes widened. She was in an odd situation, the eye of the storm. Chaos ensued around them, but in this strange bubble, Beastman hierarchy was being determined and her and the Hume were the captured witnesses. If they tried to leave, she was sure they'd be mobbed all at once, their lives being preserved only as sacs of blood to baptize the new War Chief, whichever that may be.

There was a low rumble as the ground began to shake again, but this time it didn't stop. It steadily got stronger and Sangriah stumbled trying to maintain her balance. There was a huge explosion at Kentala, knocking back rows of People and Beastmen. One of the walls crumbled and a tower tumbled over. Sangriah blinked back tears for the explosion had all but wiped out the ancient outpost, demolishing it, probably killing any who were inside. There was a movement as stones rolled out of the rubble of destruction, something massive pushing from beneath. A huge claw grasped at the rubble, an enormous head following, hoisting an immense body afterward.

Sangriah stood paralyzed, sensing the dragon fear upon her once again. Her blood ran cold and she almost collapsed with exaustion.

The dragon reared its head; smoke emanating from its nostrils, pouring from its mouth as it panted. It swept its head around unleashing a cascade of white-hot fire, melting the stones around it and cremating the bodies that had fallen.

Sangriah exhaled, bile rising in her throat, disgusted that beastman ashes would be mixed with Elvaan.

Stepping further out of the rubble, the dragon leaped out from the crumbling inner walls of Kentala, feasting on the nearest Beastmen, swallowing them in one gulp. The ground shook from the impact. It arched its back and spread out its massive black wings, smoke wafting from its nostrils once again as it cocked its neck back and forth. Some of the Beastmen had recovered from their initial fear and began to run, plowing through their fellow Fighters. Running over each other, it was a wave of fear and desperation as the Beastmen trampled each other trying to escape in a ripple, originating at the dragon. Another cascade of fire fell from the dragon's mouth. It rolled over the sand like it was chasing the Beastmen.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. With great effort she pulled her eyes away from the dragon and was once again looking into the Hume's eyes. He shook his head no, and guided her by her shoulders in the opposite direction of the Dragon. The ripple of fear was just reaching them, but the Beastmen ran around them, not over them. It was like they were being escorted away, the stench of smoke and death following behind them.

Sangriah heard the roar of the Dragon once more, stiffening. The Hume urged her on, pressing with the grip on her shoulders. What was happening? Two dragons had risen, both on the battlefield. Numb with shock, Sangriah let the Hume guide her away.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Sangriah's eyes opened suddenly, then closed just as quickly. The sudden light stung her eyes and she squeezed them shut trying to relieve some of the pain. She inhaled deeply and smelled the familiar fragrance of her sister's sabato stick. She realized she was in her home, in her own bed. Her eyes shot open again and she squinted against the pain as she slowly sat up, rubbing her forehead with the palm of her hand, images of blood and violence flashing through her mind. She pushed the images away and let herself relax in the familiarity of her home. Her vision still foggy, she made out the fuzzy shape of her sister lounging in the window, her shock of bright red hair easy to spot. Her sister took a long drag off her sabato stick, the afternoon breeze blowing the smoke towards Sangriah.

"Have your battles made you less shy?" Eyelet smirked, still surveying the streets below them from the window.

"What?" Sangriah shook her head confused. She couldn't get her bearings straight. What was she doing here? How had she gotten here? What had she been doing before? Her entire body ached and she tried to reason out why, but the answer was just beyond her grasp. She heard a man clear his throat near the doorway and was suddenly very aware that her bare chest was exposed. Hastily she pulled the fallen blankets back up around her neck and began to ask questions in a hope to cover her embarrassment. "How did I get here?" She made an effort to focus her eyes.

Eyelet playfully made smoke rings out the window then put out her stick. "You were delivered."

Eyelet was always so cryptic. Sangriah supposed it was because she was so use to lying all the time that when she didn't have to, she was unconciously evasive. She had changed her style again. Her hair was much shorter than before and separated into two playful pigtails behind her ears. She wore black, her shirt lacing up the front, not quite as tightly laced at the chest as it should be allowing for a less than chaste glimpse of what she had to offer. Her black leather pants fit her like a second skin and were tucked into knee high leather boots that looked freshly shined. The soles were silent as she hopped out of the window and came toward her sister.

The man in the doorway stepped toward the bed, stopping at an endstand and picking something up. He answered her question without looking at her. "A Hume brought you here. Said you would know where to find him when you were better and then left."

Sangriah looked over Whisperingshade. Always the picture of pure apathy, Whisperingshade was always fully dressed no matter the season, wearing clothing that most people thought foreign. He always kept himself at a distance which wasn't hard considering that most people were afraid of him. His reputation preceded him as a master of the Dark Arts, even his brethren kept their distance if they could be considered that. There hadn't been an Elvaan Dark Arts master in all the common texts. Elvaans were too close to Altana. Whisperingshade was rumored to be among the greatest, if not THE greatest of all Dark Arts Masters. No emotion was ever betrayed on what could be seen on his fair and ageless Elvaan face. Most of it was hidden behind a ceremonial hood, distinguishing of his rank among the mages of Black. He examined something in his gloved hand very intently.

Sangriah reached out with her hand and rested it on his sleeved wrist, his skin was never available for touch. "Your staff in Kentala has been lost." There was no way for her to know how much work and dedication went into making a Soul Calling Staff, but if the rarity of them in all of Vana'Diel spoke for the difficulty of their creation, Sangriah knew that the loss was significant. She tried to say more, and reclaim her memories of how it was lost, but somehow she felt separate from them, unable to take hold.

He only nodded replacing the object of his examination back onto the endstand, releasing himself from Sangriah's touch.

It was the amulet! Before she even thought about it, Sangriah snatched it up and held it tightly in her palm.

Whisperingshade eyed her suspiciously, "I'll leave you to get dressed and have something to eat." Without another word he turned and left, hesitating only for a moment as he passed Eyelet.

Eyelet got onto the bed next to Sangriah, hugging her sister. "I thought you were going to die!" She released her hold on her and looked her seriously in the face. "I hear terrible things off the drunken tongues of my suitors. The Beastmen are growing in strength, taking Kentala like that. There is more fear than lust in the air these days."

Sangriah knew that what Eyelet said was false. The Beastmen had not taken Kentala, but Sangriah persued it no further. Instead she directed her attention towards her sister. Business had been good for Eyelet, Sangriah could see. No longer scrawny from being underfed, her talent at gaining the affection of wealthy men had graduated her from a mere petty thief. She had filled out in ways that in no doubt made her "business" much easier. "You look well," Sangriah smiled at her sister.

Eyelet gave an overdramatic huff and pinched Sangriah angrily on the elbow. "Your not going to tell me what happened!?"

Sangriah looked away. They had grown apart since Sangriah had advanced through the ranks. Always away, always so serious, it was difficult for her to talk to Eyelet about things that she couldn't relate to. Eyelets world was that of aquisition with no concern for the woes of the world. The only reason she showed an interest at all was because Sangriah was involved. Sangriah remembered the warning of Wolfgang. The last thing she wanted was to put her sister in danger. It would be easier to tell noone of what she had seen, if she refused to remember. She swiftly got up ignoring her sister's inquiry and pulled clothing from the drawers. "How long was I out?" She asked as she set the amulet on the dresser and got dressed.

"Two days. At least two days here. I called on Whisperingshade to see if he could help. He gave me some sort of potion to feed you and said you only needed rest, but he came and checked on you and this stone regularly." Eyelet picked up the amulet. It had gone to a dull grey in the absence of Sangriah's touch and remained grey in the grasp of Eyelet. "You were clutching this so tightly when you were brought I had to pry it from your hands."

Sangriah looked at it nervously. She didn't like Eyelet handling it. She didn't know why, but she could feel fury build inside her. "Will you come to Midday Devotions with me?"

Eyelet laughed heartily, putting the stone down. "Don't tell me _you _still go?"

Sangriah sighed. Eyelet had no talent for the Ether and knew nothing of the mysteries of magic. She only believed what she saw, and she thought it was rediculous to give credit to some unseen deity for the marvelous things that mages could do. She thought the magic came from the caster.

"Then have breakfast with me," There was time enough for her to spend some time with her sister after not seeing her for so many months before the start of Midday Devotions.

Eyelet smiled and rubbed her belly. "You're buying."

The sisters walked into Fazel's Kitchen, arm in arm, Eyelet catching Sangriah up on all the people they passed. "Deucegue is the proud father of his 7th daughter," Eyelet patted his shoulder as they passed and gave him a sly wink. "He spends a lot of his time either here or at Lion's Tavern. Figures a man would only get in the way of a house so dominated by women and he's afraid if he sticks around too long he'll make another one."

Sangriah laughed lightly. She was glad to be home, but felt out of place. There was a fog in her mind that she couldn't shake and was hoping that a hearty meal would be of sufficient remedy.

"He's going to join the Warriors," Eyelet continued Sangriah's update.

Sangriah's eyebrows lifted in surprise. She took a seat at the same table that they had occupied every time they came to Fazel's throughout the years.

"He is a bit..." Eyelet searched for a polite way to word herself, "rusty," she settled on, "but the King seems almost desperate to recruit anyone willing, experienced or not." Worry once again stained Eyelet's face.

Sangriah stared squarely into Eyelet's eyes, offering nothing.

Sighing heavily Eyelet smiled, "I'm just happy to have my famous sister home."

"Famous?" Sangriah wondered.

"The public reports gave you honorable mention for your work in Jeuno with a commendation straight from Commander Wolfgang."

Sangriah wondered what else was mentioned in the public reports.

A chesty Elvaan greeted them at their table. Sangriah recognized her as Fazel's daughter.

"Do my slanted eyes deceive me?" Monniquah teased, jutting her hip out.

Eyelet rolled her eyes. She had never been able to tolerate Monniquah's brazen style of flirting especially since some of Eyelet's clientel spilled into Fazel's Kitchen. Monniquah was new to the game, using her "newness" as appeal. Eyelet knew that as soon as it had worn off Monniquah would lose much of her appeal. No one wanted a whiney little girl around when things got thick, no one wanted a girl in a woman's shoes…or in Monniquah's case, brazier. Nevertheless, Eyelet doubted the annoyance of the girl would wear off and her fingernails dug into the table's surface.

Monniquah put her hands on the table and bent over giving anyone behind her a healthy view. Bringing her face closer to theirs, she continued in a hushed tone, speaking to Sangriah as if she had top secret information, "Your tab was cancelled this morning, your name came up on our KIA lists."

Eyelet grabbed Monniquah by the collar, "Well," she brought Monniquah's face directly to hers, "any Elvaan with half a brain can see that she is perfectly fine." She abruptly let go causing Monniquah to stumble slightly. "Now, I would like two eggs, over easy, mithkabob...rare, windurstian sweetcakes and some Yagudo juice." She fiddled thoughtfully with one of her pigtails, "and if I ever hear you mention my sister on the Killed in Action list again," She leaned closer so only Monniquah could here, "I'll make sure your name ends up on it."

Sangriah was surprised by Eyelet's show of force. She had always been verbally confrontational, but only when it was safe for her to do so which meant either her or Kiaros were within easy reach. She had never used physical force.

Monniquah did not look shaken, but got back to the businsess of taking their food order. Both Eyelet and Monniquah were looking expectantly at Sangriah.

"I'll just have some broth," she said her mind floating. She should be getting herself back to Red Mage Command and reporting herself in, alive and well, but there was something holding her back, making her reluctant. She squeezed the amulet in her pocket and felt the comforting pulse of heat. She'd go to Midday Devotions and get her head straight. If they thought she was dead, they could handle her being dead for another hour.

Walking the passage to the Cathedral, Sangriah appreciated the order of it all; the emmaculate stone walkway, the hand selected stones laid out in specific ways to create a subtle pattern, the carefully maintained plants adorning and bordering the passage. All of this was done in an effort to create a place suitable for the worship of Altana, Goddess of the Dawn.

She had hoped that just being close to the Cathedral would help her clear her head, but she still felt strangely detached. She had the strange feeling that she was merely observing. She brought her hands to her face and knew they were her hands yet at the same time felt that they were not. She continued her trek to the Cathedral numbly.

The Cathedral was built upon a hill, visible in most places of San d'Oria, it's entrance facing the west so that upon entering, you would already be facing East from where the Sun rose and it was common practice to fashion your home in this way as well. As she approached the initial set of stairs, Sangriah saw more of the Devoted tending to the Cathedral grounds, faces intent on maintaining a high level of cleanliness. It was not an easy task keeping such a frequented place in such good condition. She saw a group of young children laughing and clapping with delight, as a Mage dressed in the full white robes of the Healer Mages cast on a bruised white rose, restoring it to full health.

Children were often sent to the Cathedral to dicern their potential. They were observed during several different excercises and "shows" to discover whether they had the talent at all and then for which color of Mage they seemed most inclined to succeed.

There were several colors the mages separated into. Strictly Healing Mages, who usually stayed behind and worked in Infirmaries or became one of the Devoted were White. The ones who ventured closer to battle, perhaps employing themselves as personal healers of those in higher ranks or of the wealthy, were Yellow. Battle Mages, the ones that specialized in offensive, distructive magic were Brown and educated by those of the Black. Exactly what the Mages of Black studied was not defined for they kept their secrets well, and few made it high enough in the ranks to reach the true secrets. What was known was that a full mage of the Black, no matter what rank was a fatal foe, their numbers kept a weary eye on. The mages of Black were commonly feared and rightly so. It was rumored that they could steal your very soul straight from your body. The public found it fortunate that they seemed unconcerned with the common conflict and kept themselves mostly separate.

Sangriah smiled at the group of children and remembered how her mother insisted she follow the path of the White. The Lady Avaela wanted bragging rights over her Healing daughter. She wanted to feel the community in her debt for having contributed such a worthy citizen to society. Since it was apparent at an early age that the lovely Eyelet didn't have the talent, Lady Avaela's plans for her was to simply marry her off to the weathiest suitor so that she would be well taken care of in her more mature years.

Sangriah reached down to feel the familiar comfort of her sword hilt and with a jolt, realized she hadn't equipped it. She was dressed plainly in a common dress, not resembling the General she had become. She couldn't remember the last time she had dressed so commonly let alone in something so plainly feminine. She felt vulnerable and incomplete without the familiar weight on her hip. Taking a deep breath she climbed the rest of the stairs to the entrance of the Cathedral telling herself she can dress properly when she returned home from Devotions.

Atop the stairs the passage had been crafted from white marble, sparkling in the afternoon sun. At times it could have a blinding effect reflecting the bright sun, serving as a beacon across Vana' diel. She heard the tiny high pitched bells of one of the Devoted in the doorway, calling to Altana's children. It was Ceraullian a friend from childhood. They had started White Mage studies together. Sangriah had gone on to learn the sword and then was later recruited by the Red while he had completed his studies in Healing and then was blessed by Altana.

Unlike the other Mages who freely took in new talent, the Red recruited. They observed carefully for only the truly versatile and most disciplined could master their art, perhaps only rivaled by the Black.

Ceraullian nodded at her, recognizing her and smiled, still shaking his welcoming bells. She nodded in return, admiring the glow of the Blessed. Altana had come to him herself, bestowing upon him part of her divine wisdom. He would have a greater gift of healing and the ability to call upon Holy magic to spite those of Darkness who opposed Altana.

Sangriah was far from being one of the Devoted, but she believed fully in the light of Altana and had made the time to continue going to Devotions through the years. It was not uncommon for Altana to reveal herself to her children in visions, although she blessed only few. In all her time in the Cathedral and in private, Sangriah had never had a vision but was resolute in her faith. Altana did not need to reveal herself to Sangriah for her to know she was there. She felt her with every breath she took and in the face of every child. She could sense her divinity in the eyes of the ones Raised by those of the White.

As Sangriah approached, Ceraullian's face changed. He looked confused, almost ill. Sangriah put a hand to his shoulder in concern and he winced away. "What's wrong?"

"I," he stuttered, "am not sure." He waved her in and braced himself against the doorway.

Sangriah was unsure whether to try and help her friend or to go in. She hesitated in the doorway looking on Ceraullian with concern.

He waved a hand at her trying to urge her on and pay him no attention. He assured her he would be fine.

Sangriah entered the Cathedral and took a deep breath hoping it would help her head clear. She had always come here when she was troubled and somehow she had always left with an answer. There were few people here to crowd the main hall. The Cathedral was plain, with few decorations to interupt its architectural beauty. Large pillars stretched high into the widely arched ceiling. Everything was kept very clean, light shining from the many windows set high throughout the building. On the Eastern wall was a plain stone altar where the severly wounded or newly dead were lain in hopes of healing. Above that was a small balcony where one of the blessed would lead a Devotion or give a sermon when inspired. No chairs were present. You were expected to stand in reverence to the Divine. If you wanted to sit, or lounge about, it could be done in one's own home.

She was disappointed that the comfort she had expected upon arriving at the Cathedral had not arrived. She felt off somehow, again like she was not really there, detached. She heard the bells of Ceraullian as he hurried by not looking at her. He still looked unwell. She hoped he would be alright.

Waiting calmly for one of the Blessed to take their place on the Balcony and start Devotions, she closed her eyes and tried to find herself. She was safe here in the Cathedral. She felt herself relax and she remembered being in Jeuno. That's right...she had been in Jeuno right after...no. She wasn't ready for that. Cloudd had sent for her in Kentala. She rode most of the day in order to get there as quickly as possible. She remembered being very tired. That must be why she felt so odd. She was just very tired.

She inhaled sharply as she remembered the initial scene of Kentala, the mass of Beastmen. Quickly flashes of her battle with the War Chief appeared and she felt her eyes squeeze shut.

"You are not welcome here," Sangriah heard a woman say very sternly. She opened her eyes and saw two of the Devoted along with Ceraullian standing in front of her. She looked at him confused. He still looked sick.

The older one, Sangriah knew as well. She had come to him for counsel on several occassions. She looked to him for answers. Guillame shook his head at her. "There are no answers for you here. The light of Altana does not shine within you."

Sangriah's eyes widened. What were they saying?

The woman repeated herself, "You are not welcome here."

Unwilling to believe them, Sangriah laughed, feeling a strange bubble of fury erupt deep within her. "I've been coming here since I was a child," she shook her head, "What do you mean I am not welcome here?"

Guillame pursed his lips not ready to believe himself and unable to explain. The woman was much more aggressive.

"You defile this holy place with your presence," the woman stepped forward.

Sangriah ran her tongue over her teeth. She was not use to being treated disrepectively and was not inclined to allow it. "Step back," she said, bringing herself from her relaxed position, to her full height, inches above the woman.

Sangriah felt a hand on her shoulder and with a jolt remembered the Hume she had battled with. She looked over her shoulder expecting to see him there. Instead it was Kiaros. She was confused by her disappointment but smiled turning and hugging him fully.

"What's going on here?" He asked the Devoted and held Sangriah loosely.

The woman was about to speak but Guillame stopped her. He knew both Kiaros and Sangriah from there childhood. Just recently Kiaros had come to him for counsel concerning his desired marriage to Sangriah.

"Sangriah needs rest," he said to Kiaros, "Perhaps when she is well, she may return."

Kiaros knew there was more to it and also knew he would find out what it was later when he returned himself to ask Guillame.

Sangriah seemed to have forgotten her conflict with the Devoted and hung freely in Kiaros' arms smiling at him. He could easily see that she was not herself. Although they were very close, Sangriah and Kiaros had rarely touched since their childhood friendship had turned into mature love. He was glad for the contact but at the same time uncomfortable. It was just not proper, especially for those of their rank, until they were married. He hoped he could settle his affairs quickly and they could be married soon. Elvaan love was not taken lightly and marriage even more serious a matter. The Divorce that was such a common practice among the neighboring land of Bastok was unheard of in San d'Oria. They did not even have a word for it in Elvaan tongue.

Kiaros allowed himself to break his serious countenance and gave Sangriah a small smile. "Come," he invited her, "It has been long since we have met." He guided her out of the Cathedral as she took his hand, that too being unfamiliar. She stopped suddenly before they went through the entrance and Kiaros was afraid she would resist.

"Kiaros," she said, her eyes troubled. He saw her put her free hand in her pocket and she seemed to recover and smiled at him as they walked out of the Cathedral.

Authors note: Thank you for reading. I hope that everything is making sense, for this is my first story and although I know what I see in my mind, I don't know that it is being translated properly into this story. If I continue with this, it is bound to become more complicated and for those of you who may enjoy this story, if I digress from an issue that needs to be addressed, or am somehow inconsistent please don't hesitate to let me know 


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